Alcoholic Confessions
by pomegranate-stars
Summary: Denmark, America, and Prussia have a bit too much to drink, resulting in some rather loose lips. De-anon from the Kink Meme. DenNor.


**De-Anon from over on the Hetalia Kink Meme, this is a little one shot to answer the prompt**

"I would like a fic based off of this smartphOWNED! pic: http:/ 27. media. tumblr .com/tumblr_lw5tsulb8Q1r0b4hlo1_ [without spaces]

(Whether the other nation in the text conversation is the love interest or someone else is up to you.)

I really prefer Denmark/Norway, but any pairing is okay."

**... I'm a major sucker for DenNor.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in any fashion, nor am I, by writing for this fandom, attempting to stereotypicalize or insult cultures or peoples.**

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><p>America wasn't entirely sure how this had become a tradition, but hey, who was he to question a night of drinking and embarrassing stories? He took another swig of beer and pointed suddenly at Prussia, whose pale face was appropriately flushed. "Gil! Truth or dare?"<p>

Prussia looked up at him from where he had been previously considering the carpet covering America's basement floor as though he'd never before seen such beautiful rug, swaying slightly from his sitting position. "… Truth!" The ex-nation declared, thrusting his beer into the air and slopping some down his front. He looked down with a pout and proceeded to try and lick it off his chest, mumbling about "a waste of good beer…" and growing incredibly frustrated when his tongue didn't reach.

On Prussia's other side, Denmark had his head tilted back and was just polishing off his third beer of the night. He crunched the can in his hand and tossed it into the growing pile in the middle of their little circle.

America leaned back against the sofa, looking pensive. "Who… Who is the last nation you bedded?" He asked finally, leaning forward to snatch another beer.

Prussia gave up on trying to lick himself and answered swiftly, without skipping a beat. "'Tonio."

"Spain?" Denmark looked surprised. "I figured for sure it'd be France…"

"…'im too. He w's there too…"

America whistled as Denmark dissolved into laughter, choking on his beer. Slowly, a grin spread across Prussia's face and he began to laugh too. Before long, all three nations were laughing helplessly, falling against each other, tears streaming down their faces.

Prussia finally pushed himself up, wiping his face, still chuckling. "'kay… 's Mathias' turn." He poked Denmark hard in the arm, sending the Nordic sprawling to the floor, still laughing. "Truth 'r Dare?"

Denmark stared up at the ceiling, looking contemplative. "… Truth!"

"Aha!" Prussia crowed, pointing triumphantly somewhere to his left, completely over Denmark's head. "I got you…! Now you gotta tell… Who are you in love with?"

Denmark sat up so fast he groaned and clutched his head as the room swam before his eyes. Damn. Prussia and America had been trying to squeeze the name out of him for the last several weeks, but Denmark had managed to avoid all their probing questions. It wasn't as though he didn't trust his friends… but the two of them together were some of the world's worst secret keepers (rivaled, possibly, by the Italians, who couldn't keep a secret if all the pasta in the world depended on it).

Thinking fast, he hit Prussia's arm with his empty beer can. "I change to dare."

"Fine." Prussia glared at him. "Then I dare you to answer the question!"

"… Fuck you."

America laughed. "Haha, you have to answer!" He sang, crawling over to Denmark. "Who is it? Is it Sweden? I bet it's Sweden. So much hate sex… 's gotta be Sweden."

"Hell no!" Denmark tried to punch Alfred in the shoulder but missed, letting his arm fall limply to the floor. "No fucking way… For one thing, that's disgusting to even think about…" He tried to scoot away from Alfred and accidentally fell into Prussia, slipping past him to land face-first onto the floor. "For another…" He informed the carpet his face was currently pressed into, "Have you ever been on the receiving end of a pissed-off Tino? Never again, dude… Fin's terrifyin' sometimes."

He pushed himself up into sitting position, leaning on America to steady himself. Prussia rolled his eyes. "Of course 's not Sweden." He informed the lamp next to the sofa. "Sweden's married t' tha' little Finnish guy… 's his name… Bambi."

America choked out a laugh. "Bambi?" He asked, but Prussia ignored him, continuing his conversation with the lamp.

"I bet it's someone completely random… Like… Like… Turkey!" He declared.

Denmark and America stared at him.

"No."

"'solutely not."

"Why would y' think that?"

"Dumbass."

Prussia spun around and pointed in America's face. "Well then? Who 's it!" He demanded.

Denmark groaned. "Guuuuuuuuys…"

"No." America pushed Prussia's arm out of the way, causing the Prussian to fall into the sofa cushions. "You gotta tell us. 's the rules."

"Fine." Denmark pouted, knocking back the rest of the beer in his hand. "If y' absolutely gotta know… I'm… 'n love with… with Nor—"

"SUUM CUIQUE!" Prussia's yell was wild as he suddenly jumped up to his feet and grabbed the lamp he'd been previously chatting up, swinging it over his head like a battle axe. "I'LL MAKE YOU PAY, BOY! HAVE AT YOU!" He tackled America to the ground and the two began to tussle instantly, rolling into the mountain of beer cans, sending them toppling to the ground with a loud crash.

Denmark growled, completely forgetting what he was about to confess. "'ey! You can't 'ave a fight and not invite me! 'm a fucking Viking, damn it!" And he jumped into the pile, tackling Prussia off of a laughing America.

It wasn't until much later, when the three nations were lying on the basement floor, exhausted and breathing heavily, that America brought up the truth or dare game again.

"'Thias?"

"Mm?" Denmark was curled on his side against Prussia, who was lying on his back, fast asleep, snoring loudly.

"… Were you gonna say Norway? Earlier?"

Denmark was silent for a moment. "… Yeah." He sounded defeated. "Yeah, I was."

America rolled over onto his side to peer at the Dane. "… You guys're good together."

Denmark shook his head, bumping it against the floor. "Doesn't matter… 'e doesn't love me like that. 's hopeless."

America crawled over to him, curling up against his side. "So? Don't give up, Den… Thas' the worst thing y' can do… Don' ever give up on somethin' ya love." With that, the American quickly fell asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily in contrast to Prussia's snorting mumbles.

Denmark could feel himself falling asleep; quickly, he fumbled with his pants for a moment before locating his cell phone. After a few tries, he got it unlocked and hit his first speed dial, putting the phone to his ear and listening to it ring.

Click.

"Denmark? What are you doing? I thought you were in New York." Norway's voice was possibly the most beautiful thing Denmark could ever remember hearing and he grinned stupidly, lying there in the dark on America's basement floor.

"I… I wanted t' call ya." Denmark slurred and there was a rush of static as Norway sighed on the other line.

"Mathias, are you drunk?"

Denmark paused to consider the question before he responded that yes, yes, he was in fact quite drunk.

"Call me back when you sober up then." Norway grumbled and Denmark's eyes flew open.

"W-Wait, Nor, wait, don't 'ang up!"

There was a pause as Denmark desperately listened to the silence on the other end.

"… What do you want?"

What did he want? Well, it was pretty simple. He wanted Norway. Denmark furrowed his brow before opening his mouth and letting whatever it was that was eating a hole in his heart tumble from his lips.

"I wanted t' tell ya that I love ya." There was a quick intake of air on the other end, but Denmark paid it no attention. He had to get these words out. "I… I was talkin' to Alfred 'nd… 'nd he said I shouldn' give up on anythin' I love, even if ya don' love me back… 'nd… 'nd I needed t' tell ya." He felt his eyes droop. He really was very sleepy. "So… so now ya know."

Norway was silent on the other end of the phone. Denmark shifted to his other side, rolling over to face Prussia.

"… How do I know?"

"Huh?" Denmark blinked, looking around for the source of the strangled voice that had uttered the words so quietly into his ear.

"How do I know… that you're not just saying this because you're drunk?" There was something strange about the Norwegian's voice… something desperate laced with just a little bit of hope.

Denmark closed his eyes, feeling his hold on reality slip. "Why would I jus' say it 'cause 'm drunk?" He mumbled. "I love ya, Nor… 'nd I always have… even though you're mean t' me somet'mes…" He shifted on the carpet, trying to find a comfortable position to put his head. "I… I look atcha… an' all I wanna do is jus' hug ya an' kiss ya silly… wanna make y' smile…"

Norway went silent again and that brief moment of complete silence is all Denmark needed to slip completely under the Sandman's spell, his cheek pressed into the screen of his iphone as his jaw went slack.

"… D-Denmark?"

There was no answer other than the Dane's quiet breathing.

Norway was silent for a moment as he stood in his kitchen, gripping his cell phone to his face before, very quietly, he murmured, "I… I think I might… I might love you too. Idiot." He hung up the phone quickly, placing it on the counter and stepping away as he took a deep, shaky breath.

Six thousand kilometers away, Denmark smiled in his sleep.

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><p><strong>I adore the Awesome Trio. :) As always, thanks for reading!<strong>


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